


Miniature Dreams

by ryukoishida



Series: Walking Disasters [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, M/M, Natural Disasters, it says major character death but it's not really, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the tsunami of 2670 AD, which has taken away his home, his parents, and his best friend, Tachibana Makoto swears to spend the rest of his life saving as much of humankind as he can as an SAR technician. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see his best friend again – not in this lifetime – but fate likes to toy with his heart, just as Mother Nature enjoys tearing Earth apart, when Nanase Haruka stands before him once more in the form of a failed government experiment: a sentient android.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miniature Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the same universe as “It’s a Disaster” (SouRin-centric).

They should have seen this coming months ago: the trembling under their feet – never reaching over 2.7 in the Richter scale, so slight are the Earth’s crusts’ movements that only machines can detect its heartbeat - constant enough to garner attention but didn’t because they are only human, and humans are prideful creatures in their natural state.

 

So when the towering waves finally hit the little fishing harbour of Iwatobi without any signs of warning, just the faint pink glow of dawn aligning the horizon like any other summer day and the swell of the ocean, perhaps higher in altitude than usual but retaining its deceitfully calm exhale, loss was unavoidable.

 

The memory of that morning will never leave Tachibana Makoto for as long as he lives: the salty scent of ocean air that soon stank of blood and rotting bodies in the days to come, the lulling waves running against the shore of the beach and seagulls calling to each other soon replaced by the surges ascending to walls of water that came crashing down and bringing debris and half-drowning cries for help across the coast and towards inland, his own heart beating so hard, blood rushing and pounding in his ears as he ran up the stone steps that led to his house, agony of a collapsed hope, and later - much, much later - the sobbing tears that seemed to never seize.

 

They were doing their morning jog – a daily routine for the childhood friends – when it happened.

 

Haruka was the first to notice something was wrong.

 

“Makoto.” He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, one side of which stood a line of shops still closed due to the early hours, and the other side was encompassed by an empty beach, beyond which laid the deep dark of the Pacific Ocean, a menacing pool of midnight blue in the hazy morning light.

 

“What is it, Haru?” He stood beside his friend, their arms almost touching but not quite, as he followed Haruka’s line of gaze towards the ocean.

 

“The shore,” he whispered like it was a terrible secret, his voice almost got caught by the sea breeze, except when Makoto glanced over, Haruka’s eyes were widening in fear, an expression not often seen on the usually impassive teenager as almost nothing could faze him.

 

Makoto looked again specifically at the shoreline this time and realized why the dark-haired boy seemed so alarmed at the sight. “It’s receding...”

 

It wasn’t just that though, and they knew it. The facts and statistics from their previous geography classes were coming back to them in bits and pieces. And hadn’t the government been issuing related warnings and predictions all across the nation for the last couple of months as well?

 

“It’s receding too far,” Haruka corrected him, and he leaned further out against the guard railing, his eyes wincing with tears against a sudden burst of fierce wind.

 

Waters were ebbing back into the ocean, but the distance between the line that marked the edge of darkened sand signifying where the tides usually stopped and where the water was continuing to regress was dramatic, and it was growing larger still, the areas usually submerged underwater were now exposed - small fish, crustaceans, and kelp littered the beach.

 

“A drawback?” Makoto asked, his breath hitching as the slow realization swept over them, like the surges of water that would soon swallow their town.

 

“We have to go,” Haruka began to move, shadowed eyes dragging away from the ocean he so loved and limbs heavy from the shock, but as they made for the direction towards home, the adrenaline in their bodies kicked in, pushing and urging them to go faster.

 

Seconds slipped meant the difference between life and death, and even though they wanted to warn as many of their neighbours as possible, all they could do for the moment was to ring their doorbells with shouts of warning on their way.

 

They didn’t have time to make sure the elderly couple a few houses down had heard them, but Haruka promised to check.

 

“You go ahead,” Haruka told him in his soft, collected voice, the fear that had been apparent minutes ago diminishing into mere flickers of agitation that were less noticeable.

 

“But Haru ––” Makoto hesitated on the stone steps.

 

Haruka gave his friend a hard look, and when Makoto still refused to move as precious seconds ticked away, the dark-haired teenager released a soft sigh, pulled the other boy close, and planted a fleeting kiss on his mouth. 

 

“H-Haru...” He touched a finger to his lower lip, still lingering with the warmth of Haruka’s presence.

 

Makoto could feel Haruka’s breaths fanning across his heating cheek when he spoke, his delicate fingers clasping lightly around Makoto’s wrist. “Make sure your family’s okay. I’ll meet you at the top of the steps.” Their houses were built atop the side of the highest elevation in the area; even so, they knew better than to take their chances. Gathering at the top of the hill where the shrine, which ironically housed the water deity, was situated was their safest bet before they could audit the damage closer to the coastline.

 

When Makoto finally nodded in agreement, Haruka gave him the smallest of a smile, perhaps trying to reassure his friend, and let go, making his way down the winding steps.

 

Haruka’s words were not a promise, Makoto told himself as his feet pounded against the stone hard enough to shake his core, but he would hold onto them like a lifeline nevertheless.

 

When he got home, an eerily quiet house greeted him. It didn’t mean anything, Makoto thought uneasily; it was still early. He found the twins sleeping soundly in their room, and a note from his parents on the kitchen table, cheerfully informing Makoto that they had gone down to the fish market by the port to purchase some fresh seafood for that night’s dinner in celebrating the twins’ birthday. 

 

“Shit,” Makoto murmured, the piece of paper in his hand crinkling as he gathers it into his fist, his heart sinking with dread at the thought of his parents being so close to the harbour. He ran upstairs and tear open the twins’ bedroom door, rousing Ren and Ran gently but in a hurried tone as they blinked blearily back at their older brother in confusion.

 

He only had time to help his siblings put on light sweaters for the morning coolness and stuffed their arms with emergency backpacks that Mrs. Tachibana had prepared diligently almost a year ago before Makoto ushered them outside.

 

“Where are mom and dad?” Ren asked in between yawns, rubbing his eyes as Makoto began to lead them up the steps by their hands.

 

“Don’t worry about them,” Makoto gave him a weak smile. “Let’s just get up this hill first, all right? Haru should be there soon as well.”

 

“What’s going on, onii-chan?” Ran inquired, seemingly more aware of her surroundings than her twin brother, and she was staring up at Makoto as if she knew. Well, Ran had always been the more mature one of the two. Her curious glance followed the figures of the other people living in the neighbourhood climbing up the stairs in front of them with hasty pace, as if something was chasing them from behind, and she looked back and down the stairs towards where the coast was.

 

The sky was starting to glow brighter as morning approached, the sun just peaking out from the horizon and bringing streaks of pale orange and milky blue with it.

 

With the light came clearer vision, and what they saw was a nightmare unfolding right before their eyes: the drawback of the water had exceeded its maximum and the ridge in its colossal height was now racing towards shore in a thunderous rumbling that could be heard for miles. From their viewpoint, Makoto estimated the amplitude of this first crest to be at least eight feet tall, and like a dam that stretched from the cliff rock with the viewpoint pavilion at the eastern edge of town all the way to the port where many fishing boats were bobbing up and down, their owners oblivious to the deadly oncoming waves, the water was trapping the entire harbour and its peoples within its greedy grasp.

 

He could smell rather than hear the hungry roar of surge of the ocean, the salt spray in the air infiltrated with a stagnant metallic stench.

 

“Come on,” Makoto tugged his siblings forward, forcing them to turn away from the horrible sight but could do nothing to block out the panicked screams of the townspeople who resided closer to the harbour and had no time or chance to run that rose and fell with the gush of the huge wave that came crashing against the shore, rocking and overturning boats that looked like toys compared to the height of the wall of water that continues to rush inland, smashing past the concrete pavement Haruka and Makoto himself had just been running on not even fifteen minutes ago, crawling over roofs of one-story houses and stores, and slowly flowing further into the inner parts of town in a widespread flood of rising waters.

 

“Onii-chan…” Ren whimpered shakily against his leg, and with a grunt, Makoto swung his younger brother into the crook of his arm while pulling Ran up the last few steps of the stairwell.

 

Thanks to their warning, Makoto recognized many of the elderly neighbours that had made it to higher grounds, but as his frantic eyes scanned for the familiar mob of blue-black hair in the sparse crowd, who were murmuring restlessly amidst themselves, his heart was sinking by the second, for Haruka was no where to be seen.

 

He was also hoping by some rare coincidence that his parents would be amongst the group as well, though their note pointed out otherwise, but there was not much Makoto could do; he’d pray if he knew it’d help.

 

The gods – if there were any in the first place – were not kind that day.

 

“Makoto!” A slightly wheezing voice brought him out of his reverie, and he turned to see Haruka climbing the last step up to join them as Ren jumped down from his brother’s arms and ran towards the dark-haired boy with his sister, giving him a huge embrace.

 

“Ren, Ran,” Haruka called out their names, gentle with relief as he ran calming fingers through their hair. Then he looked up at Makoto, his eyes retaining the tranquil mirror of a lake, the only sign of his dismay being the small furrow of his brows. “Where are your parents?”  

 

He swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him alive – hot tears blurring everything he saw and the frightening images of his parents’ limp, lifeless bodies being tossed into the depth of the ocean like ragdolls behind his eyelids that were besieging his mind caused his chest to tighten painfully – because up until that point, his brain was too preoccupied with keeping his siblings safe and fretting over Haruka’s whereabouts.

 

Now that Haruka had returned, Makoto had nothing else to focus on but his parents’ location and wellbeing. Perhaps they’d heard the warning and escaped in time, Makoto attempted to drill the pathetic belief into his head, forcing his logic aside for the time being because if he didn’t, he thought he might go insane with terror.

 

A shaky finger pointed at the vague direction towards the harbour where they could see overturned boats and debris of smashed buildings and branches of green maple snapped into bits floating atop the surface of the receding ocean, the crest that caused the first wave of destruction withdrawing for awhile as watery claws dragged wreckage and bodies back into the silence of the ocean.

 

“Makoto?” Haruka wandered closer to the shivering boy, Ren and Ran still trailing behind him like lost kittens, and he placed a hand softly on the brunette’s cheek as he tried to turn his head to face him; he noted the wetness that touched his fingers. “Where are they?”

 

“I ––” Makoto paused, inhaling with a shuddering breath and squeezing his eyes shut as tears ran down freely in streaks before blinking his eyes open again, green orbs lined by red veins, “I should go look for them. Haru, will you watch Ren and Ran for me?”

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Haruka wrapped insistent fingers around his wrist when Makoto began to turn towards the staircase, his tone clipped with impatience. “You see what’s happening down there. The next wave will hit in ten to fifteen minutes; that’s what the radio has been broadcasting.”

 

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Makoto demanded with an audible sob, snatching his arm away from his friend’s grasp with his body fully turned away as he brushed away any remnants of tears, and Haruka was left staring at the cold emptiness between the gap of his fingers, the emptiness that Makoto might drown in if he let himself stubbornly held onto a false belief only to be proven wrong later. “I need to go find them,” his voice was breaking, hoarse and raw with fatigue, “I need to see it for myself.”

 

“Then what about your brother and sister? Who’s going to look after them?” Haruka tried to make Makoto see reason, though he understood that in this kind of situation, logic was the least beneficial of them all. “Makoto, look at me, damn it.” He gripped the taller man’s chin firmly when he refused, and looked him in the eye when Haruka muttered, blue eyes, the shade so much like the frightening ocean that Makoto had convinced himself to fear and love, glaring at him with an unwavering gleam. “I’ll go look for them. You stay here.”

 

“No,” Makoto pulled back, feeling another boulder piled on top of his chest, suffocating him, and that sensation was spreading, the heat and weight of it immobilizing him when he realized what his best friend was implying. “No, Haru. That is not for you to decide; they’re my parents!”

 

“You cannot possibly expect me to let you go down there on your own right now, Makoto,” the dark-haired boy said, tone laced with a quiet sobriety that Makoto was unable to disregard. “I won’t let you.” He crossed before his best friend’s taller figure and stood between him and the stairway, blue flames of determination roaring in his irises, his lips set in a firm line that wouldn’t be dislodged.

 

“Haruka…” Makoto rounded each syllable of his full name carefully as he stepped closer until they were almost chest-to-chest so that Haruka had to crane his neck up to keep maintaining their eye contact. “Move. Please.” The individual words tear from his throat, painful but vital.

 

“Onii-chan, Haru-nii-chan,” Ren’s tearful call of the two young men made them pause, both looking down simultaneously at the frightened boy, fresh tears shining on his cheeks that even his twin sister’s usual tactful combination of teasing and consoling was unable to stop. “I-I want mom and dad.” His little fingers tightened on Makoto’s shirt end as he sniffled noisily and looked up at his big brother with wide, teary eyes.

 

“Ren –” Makoto sounded strangled, words caught in between his brain and throat so that nothing of sense would come out, his eyes blinking slowly as he attempted to think of a plausible explanation that could settle the twins down without getting them worried sick, too.

 

“Ren,” Haruka placed a firm hand on the young boy’s shoulder, and he turned around to face him as the blue-eyed teenager kneeled down to his eye level. “Haru-nii-chan will go look for your mom and dad, okay? But you and Ran have to promise me that you would listen to everything your onii-chan says. Got it?”

 

“R-Really? You’ll really be able to find mom and dad?” Ran wrapped her arms snugly around Haruka’s bicep and asked with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

 

“I promise I’ll try my best,” Haruka only replied, turning away slightly, because he couldn’t lie to these children who were almost as much of his siblings as they were Makoto’s. He understood that the chance of him being able to locate Mr. and Mrs. Tachibana and then proceed to retrieve them out of this mess was slim – knew it immediately when he’d volunteered to go in Makoto’s place – but damned if he wasn’t going to try. In the absence of his own parents, Makoto’s mother and father had provided the care and shelter he needed throughout the last few years as if he were one of their own children, and if ensuring their safety would put Makoto and the twins at ease, Haruka would do nothing less.

 

“You two be good and stay with Makoto,” Haruka placed each hand on top of the younger Tachibanas’ heads and ruffled their hair with easy affection. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

Ran and Ren nodded in unison.

 

“Haru, you can’t do this – you can’t,” Makoto mumbled with his head lowered so that his bangs veiled his eyes, almost losing his voice to the wind that brought along the sharp twang of the ocean and musty scent of debris.

 

Haruka took the two steps to reach his best friend, and without any hint of hesitation, just a fragile gentleness in his cerulean eyes and a gesture as soft as the caress of spring’s zephyr, he cradled Makoto’s jaw, surprising the brunette into leaning against his warm, calloused palm.

 

“You’re not going to make me break my promise with Ran and Ren, are you?” A trace of a smile – nothing delightful or joyous about it, just a tender kind of sadness and resolve – in the low tone with which Haruka spoke, and somehow, Makoto knew this was going to be the end.

 

Haruka was right, of course – he was always the more logical and level-headed one despite his eccentric tendencies, a teenager who was not the best at conversing and dealing with people, who had a strange fascination with swimming and unparalleled obsession with water, but was always a loyal and trustworthy friend Makoto could always depend upon. Makoto had his siblings to look after and he really should have known better than to make rash decisions like this.

 

Still, was it fair for Haruka to shoulder this entire burden on himself instead?

 

And then he realized: it didn’t matter anymore, because the coastal town of Iwatobi – a fishing harbour Makoto had always dreamed of escaping from since he was a child to chase a farther, more ambitious aspiration – was no more. It was drowning in the jaws of vicious, consuming water, half-dead and rendered helpless, and soon, their lives would be no better than the wrecked remnants of this little town they called home.

 

“Haru,” he murmured his name like a prayer that would bring him back to his side, a hymn that – through repetition and sheer willpower – would make his wish come true. He pulled the shorter boy towards himself by his shirtfront, and Haruka stumbled into his embrace, winding his arms loosely around his best friend’s waist for support.

 

“Mako – mmph!” He didn’t get to the end of his name before he felt warm lips covering his own, and there was nothing gentle or soft about this kiss, just a sense of urgency and desperation in the form of teeth nipping sharply on lower lips, fingers dragging through hair, and muffled moans swallowed like grains of sand that trickled down their throats so that breathing became almost impossible.

 

When he pulled back, their breaths slightly hitched, Makoto’s green eyes were glimmering with unshed tears as he muttered in a low, pained timbre. “Haru, come back to me, you have to promise me.” The grip of Makoto’s bigger hands was verging on excruciating, but Haruka said nothing, just returned the gesture with a squeeze of his own fingers before he reluctantly pulled his hands away.

 

“Yeah.” His reply was faint, frail, and Makoto had never seen his best friend like this: unsure and vulnerable in the way he wrapped his arms protectively around himself after Makoto had let go of him.

 

Haruka didn’t like making promises he knew he couldn’t keep; Makoto had known this much, so he didn’t insist.

 

As Makoto watched his back retreat down the stairs, Haruka’s figure – a vision so familiar to Makoto by now – slowly disappearing from view, the brunette felt his legs gave as he dropped onto the gravelly surface of the ground, his mind not registering the scratches on his palm at all when sharp grit grated against his skin.

 

His heart and body were telling him to chase after his best friend with all his might, to haul him back up the hill and keep him there away from the danger that lurked near the coast. Yet his logic dictated him to remain here for the twins’ sakes – that should anything happen to their parents (he didn’t dare dwell on this too much, but he could sense the glaring possibility just out of reach and hiding in the shadow of his mind), Makoto would become the sole support the twins would have, and he couldn’t let them down by being selfish like his heart desired.

 

Loving Nanase Haruka was a constant that Makoto had greedily kept to himself all these years until that morning, when Haruka was the one who initiated their first kiss, but his heart was too unsettled for him to truly appreciate the significance of this gesture. 

 

When the second wave hit the shore thirteen minutes later, it was even taller than the previous one, and the reverberation it made as it blasted across inland through the rivulets of the streets and smashed into buildings was like a beast’s, all wild snarls and thunderous roars, shaking the earth beneath their feet and shattering the foundation of their lives.

 

And still, Haruka hadn’t returned.

 

On either side of him, Ran and Ren had their heads slumped against their older brother’s arms, and all Makoto could do was hold them closer. Though he didn’t say it out loud, he needed them – their solid presence a comfort and meagre proof of their existence – just as much as they needed him.

 

Helicopters carrying news anchors and cameramen, ambulances and fire-engines from nearby unaffected towns, and truckloads of emergency supplies began to arrive by early evening, about five hours since the last crest had been observed.

 

The ocean seemed calmer now after its monstrous tantrum, its grand expanse a glittering field of curved concaves and sharp peaks splintering into millions of facets that twinkled gold and red under the glare of the setting sun, the surface of the water only broken by floating corpses tainted beyond recognition – nameless, shapeless, and silhouetted – and fragmented glaciers of asphalt, metal, and wood.

 

And still, Haruka hadn’t returned.

 

The majority of the people who had escaped to the temple at the top of the hill were being ushered into buses that would supposedly take them into nearby towns for the time being, as Iwatobi had been deemed an area too dangerous for its residents to stay.

 

When one of the SAR technicians approached the Tachibanas, who were sitting at the top steps and staring blankly towards the ocean, their frames tensed and taunt like wind up piano wires ready to snap, the woman with caramel hair swept up in a high ponytail gently but firmly directed, “You kids need to get going. The area is being evacuated and a bus is waiting a couple of blocks away to take you to someplace much safer.”

 

The two younger children – twins, it appeared to the technician – turned to look at her with wide but tired eyes, and shook their heads. “We’re waiting for someone,” the little boy told her timidly.

 

“Haru-nii-chan said he’ll meet us here,” the little girl continued, “if we go somewhere else, he won’t be able to find us.”

 

“I understand,” the woman squatted down so that she could talk to the children at their eye level, her tone kind and patient. “But you see, it’s too dangerous to stay here now. Scientists with their equipment are predicting more severe earthquakes and tsunamis in the upcoming months.”

 

The children shook their heads fiercely at her words, however, and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t faced these kinds of situations before: disbelieved and devastated survivors who watched as their home got destroyed and refused to leave behind what they had known.

 

The young man sitting in between the children remained unmoved, his back still facing towards her. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, and the contact made him flinch away, as if shocked and disgusted by another human’s touch. With a very blank expression that was difficult for the technician to read, the teenager turned around warily, his face colourless and bruise-like shadows tainted the bags under his pale green eyes.

 

It was the face of someone who had seen or known a loved one passed away in front of their eyes; the vacant light in their eyes that eventually dimmed when the truth hit them like an overwhelming wave not unlike the ones they had encountered.  

 

“Are you the legal guardian of these children?”

 

“I ––” A flash of his parents’ faces came to his mind, but he suppressed it from further drilling into his chest. Instead, Makoto swallowed hard and nodded numbly, his startled eyes darting towards the two younger kids by his side as if he had just noticed them for the first time. “I’m their brother.”

 

“You need to take these kids away from here,” the woman told him in a stern voice, though her eyes spelled understanding. “Iwatobi has been classified as high-risk zone, and the PNERU is evacuating this entire area. We’ll bring you to neighbouring cities that have not been affected, so you’ll need to come with us, do you understand?”

 

“But onii-chan,” the small boy was tugging on his elder brother’s shirtsleeve, “Haru-nii-chan’s not back yet.”

 

“We have to wait for him,” his sister insisted, pulling on Makoto’s other hand.

 

“Ren, Ran…” Makoto kneeled down, and the twins hovered closer so that he could lightly wrap his arms around them delicately. He chewed on his lower lip as he thought about how he could word it in such a way so as to not upset his siblings, and finally decided that the best way to approach this was to tell them the truth.

 

He needed to tell himself this, too, or he would continue believing; his faith – strengthened by the trust and love he held for Haruka over the long years of their friendship – had been shattered by the menacing ocean and was sinking along with the wreckage that couldn’t be mend, and corpses that couldn’t be identified.

 

His soft voice trembled like a frail leave in the breeze when he addressed Ran and Ren, his gaze faraway and aggrieved. “I… I don’t think Haru is coming back.”

 

Seconds passed, and the children looked at their older brother, heads tilted as if they couldn’t quite understand what he was saying.

 

“But he _promised_ ,” Ren whined.

 

“He _promised_ ,” Ran echoed tearfully.

 

Something ferocious flickered across Makoto’s eyes, his frame shivering from the tension he had no way of letting out, and he muttered through clenched teeth, each word coming out requiring every ounce of strength he had left. “Haru had never intended to keep his word; he knew he wasn’t going to make it.”

 

It was more of a late realization than anything else.

 

With the only family he had left, Makoto crumpled and gathered his siblings into the embrace of his arms, the sounds of inconsolable sobbing becoming the solitary music in their ears and the image of Haruka’s retreating figure that faded with the light haunting his dreams in the years to come.

 

-

 

“NH-0630-2673, can you hear me?”

 

Sharper than anything else, and the speaker isn’t the only thing he hears. Beyond that solemn, female voice, he perceives the rustling of papers, pens scratching against writing pads, a man further off – probably outside the room he’s currently in – laughing hysterically at something someone has said, and the constant humming and beeping of various machines.

 

“His system is showing signs of recognition of his surroundings,” a man reports, then his voice turns perplexed, “so why isn’t he waking up?”

 

“Try calling his name – his human name,” somebody else suggests.

 

What does the person mean, his “human name”?

 

“Nanase Haruka?” The first voice tries again, hesitant and soft as the woman drifts closer. His skin can detect the warmth of another body, and his instinct is telling him to shrink away, limbs automatically wanting to curl unto himself, and only then does he notice that his wrists and ankles are bound.

 

The movements – as subtle as they are – are enough to notify his observers of his state of awareness. “Haruka? You’re awake? Thank goodness.”

 

No point in pretending now, he sighs inwardly, and opens his eyes, momentarily startled by the bright overhead lights that glare directly down at him but surprised that he has no need to wince or blink against the intruding illumination, either. Something about his body doesn’t feel right – different – when he observes his surroundings with guarded eyes so blue and dazzling that they can only be man-made.

 

He can feel that strange alteration in the lightness of his frame and the sharp focus of his sight the moment he allows his body to adjust to his environments upon fully coming to consciousness.

 

“Haruka?” The same woman tries to get his attention, and he turns at the call of his name, brows furrowing at the figure in a white lab coat and holding a tablet as she diligently types in whatever it is that Haruka has no interest to find out.

 

He just wants them to unchain his limbs this instant. The restraint makes him feel uncomfortable and exposed, as do the curious and downright rude and open stares of the scientists – as he presumes them to be from their outfits and the high-tech machines he doesn’t know the names of beeping around him.

 

“How do you feel?”

 

‘What do you think?’ He wants to snarl in her face but doesn’t. Somewhere deeply seated inside his being, Haruka is heeding to a warning: if he wants to be free, it’s better to listen to what they have to say than to try and stir up a conflict with these people and their ostentatious lab coats and fancy equipment.

 

So, Haruka answers truthfully. “Weird.”

 

“In what ways?” She’s asking with such an eager tone that Haruka can’t help but develop instant aversion towards her.

 

“Well, for one thing…” His glance flicks towards the fastenings on his wrists pointedly and then back at the scientist, the distaste is prominent in his blue glare and the delicate lift of his brows.

 

“A mere safety measure,” she replies smoothly.

 

“For what?” His gaze darkens with suspicion, but the woman merely gives him a harmless and pleasant smile. Haruka doesn’t trust her at all.

 

“Is there anything else we should know about – any dysfunctions or anything like that?”

 

“I wouldn’t know unless you untie me,” Haruka tells her.

 

“Oh, we can’t do that just yet,” she chuckles, as if Haruka’s request is something endearing. His dislike for this woman has just increased ten-fold.

 

“Do you remember how you got here?” Another scientist, a young man with metal-framed glasses, interrupts.

 

“Where is ‘here’, exactly?”

 

“The base of National Military Experimental Sciences in Kyoto.” He’s looking expectantly at Haruka again, waiting for the answer to his previous question.

 

“No, not really.”

 

“Would this ring any bells?” the woman holds out a small object that tinkles under the white glare of the fluorescent lights, and it looks like a keychain of some sort in the shape of… a fish – maybe?

 

The distance from which she’s standing makes it hard for Haruka to see the keychain clearly, yet when he tries to focus on it, his vision _zooms in_ – like a camera.

 

“How –– ?” He doesn’t finish his question as words get caught in his throat when he recognizes the keychain – or more precisely, _who_ made the keychain. Haruka blinks in surprise when the shape enlarges until he’s able to tell that the fish is actually an orca.

 

A vaguely-orca-shaped creature, to be more exact, because despite the white paint around its eyes and under its belly and scratched black paint that covers the rest of its body, it’s otherwise difficult to tell that it’s a killer whale, especially when its fins are so impossibly lopsided.

 

“Makoto.” It’s just a whisper, a memory that starts off hazy and distant, like a shadow materializing and waning in the miasma of his mind until the fog slowly clears off, and standing there with the gentlest smile on his face, and green eyes that have always reminded Haruka of the tenderness of spring is his best friend, a boy whom he has known and cared for and cherished.

 

A boy he has lost when he decides to cast everything away the day the water took his life. The water he has always respected and accepted until it rears its monstrous head, snapping at him with its fanged jaws and dragging him down with its claws until he becomes asphyxiated with water filling up his lungs.

 

He can’t breathe; he can’t think.

 

All around him, corpses drift so close that if he has the strength to reach out, he can probably touch them, a drowning girl waves her arms and legs around in a deadly waltz with the ocean she knows she has no chance of winning, and fragments of concrete and random household objects twirl past him in an eerie dance.

 

The burn of his oesophagus fades as the cold, strong arms of water cradle his slack body intimately, rocking him to an eternal sleep.

 

“I…” The back of his head bangs against the table he’s strapped to, body paralyzed from the blitzkrieg of frightening images and thunderous roars of the water in the last moment of his life. “I’m dead. I’m…” He swallows hard, bright blue eyes blinking against the white blaze of the fluorescent tubes mounted in the ceiling and though he remembers the sensation of crying – the watery heat in his eyes, the sharp burn in his nasal cavity – he cannot will his tears to come out.

 

“Yes… and no,” the female scientist corrects him. She places the keychain onto Haruka’s limp, open palm, and his fingers close around it reflexively.

 

It doesn’t feel right. The texture of the roughened timber, the sharp edges of where the figure has splintered, the weight of it – the physical sensations are all wrong: the keychain too light, the edges deadened, the surface too smooth.

 

“What am I?” Haruka finally musters enough strength to ask, turning his head to the side to see the woman beaming excitedly at him, as if she’s been waiting for him all this time to finally ask the important questions.

 

Well excuse him while he’s trying to come to terms with the fact that he’s _dead_.

 

“You, Nanase Haruka – also known as NH-0630-2673 – are our department’s pride and joy,” she spreads her arms out wide with a broad grin on her face. “As the sixth generation of the Natsu no Hokkyoku series and part of the ‘Resurrection Project’, you are also one of the first Synthetic Human units to have a live human’s consciousness transplanted into your surrogate android body and the data of your life’s memories uploaded into your hard drive. In summary, unlike the standard SH units that start out as a blank slate, you are given a chance to continue your ‘life’, so to speak, as your previous self. You are still Nanase Haruka, but you are an improved version of the human you used to be.”  

 

Synthetic Humans… He’s heard of this term while taking Social Studies class at school and watching the news on television but has never seen one himself, Iwatobi having no practical uses for advanced technology like that. The manufacturing of these humanoid robots implanted with an algorithm that allows them to have sentience has been increasing in recent years, and there have been talks – rumours, really – that the government is thinking of expanding the industry by enhancing SH technology through the transplant of actual human brains into the robot, thus not only promoting the hopeful idea of an afterlife, but also the long-sought-after dream of immortality.

 

Haruka doesn’t say anything after the scientist’s grand explanation, mind buzzing with white noise. How does one react when you’ve been told that you’re dead and has now turned into a robot?

 

Too preoccupied with his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the woman gives a silent signal for her assistants to untie the chains that Haruka has almost forgotten are there.

 

He pushes himself to sit up, and is surprised by how light his body feels despite the metal alloy his insides must be composed of. Opening his palm, he stares longingly at the keychain his best friend has carved for him.

 

“Is Makoto okay?” he asks quietly.

 

“According to our records, he and his siblings have been relocated to a refugee facility in Sano for the time being.”

 

Haruka nods, relief spreading over his expression.

 

“And their parents?”

 

“Missing,” she replies without missing a beat, though her gaze is watchful. “Presumably got dragged out into the ocean when the tsunami hit.”

 

He imagines the Tachibana siblings receiving that news, the tears they would have shed for their loving mother and father.

 

Will they cry for him, too?

 

“I see.” And after a brief moment, “Will I be able to see them?”

 

“Not right now,” the woman says, though her tone is not unkind, the harsh edge of her lips softening. “We still need to run some tests on you and see if there is anything we can improve for our future models. You’re important to us, Haruka, and I hope you can see how much your contribution to the scientific community will mean for humanity’s future.”

 

‘But I’m important to _them_ ,’ Haruka thinks to argue, ‘Right?’ His heart – no, he doesn’t have that anymore, as his hand hovers over the left side of his chest where his heart would be if he was human, and instead what he’ll find is a metal cage of wires and cables, cold and unfeeling – but something in his programming, or hard drive or whatever fancy terms these scientists like to use, close to the centre of his core is unsettling, almost like the water that choked him to death. This is a slower death, though, the agony drawn out nice and taunt and ready to snap when the time comes. ‘Doesn’t _that_ count for anything?’

 

He only knows he can care less about humanity’s future, not if it means he’ll never get to set eyes on Makoto and the twins again.

 

“But eventually?” Haruka pushes just a little bit, testing the waters.

 

The woman’s smile is amiable, though obviously forced. “Perhaps. In the meantime, however: Welcome to your second life, Haruka.”

 

-

 

“Tachibana, here’s the stats of the SH unit that will be reporting to you today,” Lieutenant Serizawa hands him a paper-thin tablet consisting of a ten-to-fifteen-page report.

 

The administration office, located on the second-top floor of _JDS Noriki_ , is bustling with activity as there’s a new shipment of SH units arriving today and are required to be assigned their positions and teams on one of the largest ships within the fleet of PNERU. The noise is slightly muted by the closed door of the closet office that the middle-aged Lieutenant Serizawa occupies, but not by much.

 

“Thank you, Sir,” Makoto replies with a hesitant smile, always a little nervous around his superiors, and is reaching out his right arm instinctively to receive it until the acute, excruciating pain of his shoulder where the metal of his automatic arm and the organic skin of his neck meets makes him wince with an audible hiss and he retracts from the offered report.

 

“You all right, Tachibana?” The lieutenant asks with a frown as he places the report down on the table in front of Makoto, who’s massaging the spot on the curve of his neck directly adjacent to the metal plating of his arm that’s covered up by his military-issued navy blue t-shirt, his face has turned pale and he has to close his eyes to recuperate as the tremors from the pain subside. “Are you sure you don’t need a couple of more days off? I’m sure Matsuoka and the other team leaders will be willing to do double-duty for a few extra days if your body doesn’t feel ready.”

 

“I’m okay, Lieutenant,” Makoto stands up straighter, and his figure towers over the other officer, his arms held firm and strong by his side despite the trembles of his right shoulder. “It’s been two months already; I don’t think I can handle another day sitting inside my room and watching my colleagues deal with what should have been my responsibilities. It’s just that I’ve forgotten to take my pain medication this morning.”

 

It’s amazing what one little pill can achieve with today’s medical technology – one pill a day, to be taken every morning, and it gives Makoto the euphoric illusion that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with his body and every part of him is as human as one can be.

 

“I’m really sorry that your first assignment as a team leader has led you to this,” Lieutenant Serizawa murmurs apologetically as his gaze drops to his arm, the silver of the alloy made shinier under the luminescence of the office’s stark lighting.

 

“It was an accident,” The movement is minuscular, but Serizawa can tell Makoto’s trying his hardest not to flinch or hide his robotic arm behind his back under his scrutinizing stare. “It happens in our line of work; I understand the risk involved when I first joined the PNERU, Lieutenant, so don’t worry about me.”  

 

The lieutenant walks around his desk, places a comforting hand on his good shoulder, and passes the tablet to his junior officer, the rigid line of his mouth, usually frowning with disapproval or yelling orders interspersed with the occasional cussing into the headset during stressful missions, softens into a sympathetic smile that quickly vanishes as soon as the topic returns to SH.

 

“If you run into any problems with your assigned SH unit, you let me know right away,” Serizawa returns to his seat with a tired and irritated sigh. “God knows these damn androids are going to take over our jobs one day – with the increased production the government keeps on insisting – but until that day arrives, we’re still the superior ones who create and command them, and we should always remind them of where they stand lest they forget their position.” He pauses, cautious grey orbs eyeing his subordinate with a knowing look and his mouth tightening into a firm line when he continues, “Tachibana, I know you have a tendency to go soft on your team and fellow colleagues, but you’ve demonstrate in the past that you make good judgement where it counts, and that’s why I’ve decided to promote you to a team leader position. If the SH step out of line in any way, you know the protocol for that. Don’t disappoint me.”

 

“Y-yes, Sir!” Makoto may have paused for a brief moment, stunned by the outright prejudice against the SH population his superior officer is displaying in his speech, but he knows better than to challenge him, so he swallows hard and answers in the way that the lieutenant wants him to.

 

“You may go now,” Serizawa waves him off and Makoto doesn’t waste a second as he steps out of the office, releasing a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding, his shoulders sagging and the sharp jab on his right shoulder returning with a vengeance.

 

He should probably return to his room to take his medication before his meeting with his teammates concerning the arrival of their team’s new SH member. Lieutenant Serizawa’s warning circles around his head and won’t leave him alone, and he vaguely wonders why the man is so adamantly discriminatory against the sentient androids. From his own interactions with the many SH members on the ship, Makoto mostly finds them fascinating, if not downright intimidating at times, in their abilities of perfect execution with their given commands and the flawless and intricate automated mechanisms that lend both inhuman strength and ethereal grace to their physical movements.

 

Some of them are friendly enough, and Makoto more than once finds himself engaging in conversations with topics ranging from the mundane everyday life things like commentating how bland today’s lunch is to more serious discussions like government policies regarding SH and android rights. Not all the human staff here is as open-minded, but they mostly keep their biased opinions to themselves; still, Makoto would hear snippets of whispered insults thrown at their android comrades from time to time, and he understands that defending them will only earn him isolation and disgusted glares from his colleagues.

 

Not that any of that actually matters, Makoto thinks, because his close friends and teammates are nothing like those narrow-minded folks.

 

As the brunette rounds the corner of his platoon’s sleeping quarters, mind still occupied by troubled thoughts, he runs into someone with a surprised yelp, the other person, slighter in build and height, staggers a step backward.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Makoto immediately ducks his head to apologize, the nape of his neck heating up from embarrassment as he goes on, “I wasn’t looking at where I was going. So sorry about that!”

 

The other man releases a breath through his nose, and Makoto isn’t sure whether that’s a sign of his impatience or irritation. His voice betrays no clues but is calm and modulated, “Are you Team Leader Tachibana Makoto?”

 

“A-ah, yes. That would be me, yes.” Makoto frowns slightly, his head still lowered, and finds the man’s voice oddly familiar – a voice that he constantly searches in his dream only to have it dissipated within his grasp once he wakes up drenched in cold sweat, head racing to chase the owner of that voice, and the dull ache of his shoulder flares exponentially, a reminder that much like his fractured heart and crippled arm, he’s a broken man.

 

For the past four years since the most disastrous tsunami that western coast of Japan has ever experienced, Makoto has been slowly healing, and as naïve as he was, he thought that as time passes by, the pain of loss – both of his parents and his best friend – will fade to a flickering flame of a small candle that he’d learn to live with, a sweet ache that reminds him that for most of his life, there are those few special people who cherish him with all their hearts and souls.

 

Whoever said that is a liar. The pain doesn’t go away. The intensity decreases as months and years go by, sure, but it never leaves for good and Makoto doesn’t expect it to, but whenever it does come back, it’s always raucous and guttural, a snarling, angry thing that spits mocking fire at his weakened spirit, and his chest clenches as if someone’s trying to tear his heart out and squeeze the life out of him.

 

Those nights have been insufferable as sleep escapes him, replacing his brain with the sensation of the last kiss he and Haruka shared, a random joke they told each other as kids, the swelling belly of the ocean that consumed, Haruka’s touch, his rare smiles and rarer laughter… before everything in his life fell apart.

 

Standing before him now is a man who’s speaking in the exact same voice that Makoto will always remember – a voice that he thought he’d never have the chance to hear in this lifetime again.

 

He feels the air leave his lungs but forgets to take in another breath, too terrified of what he may see if he lifts his head up, too frightened of being disappointed at the dizzying possibility that has been whirling in his mind for years. Makoto darts out his tongue nervously to wet his lips and teeth catches the flesh of his bottom lip, slowly breathing in, as he finally forces himself to look up.

 

“NH-0630-2673, codename Nanase Haruka, reporting to Team Alpha of the 46th platoon for duty.” He gives him a salute, rigid, electric blue eyes staring forward with an inscrutable expression on his face – a face that doesn’t look any different or even a day older than when Makoto last saw his best friend standing at the top of the shrine stairs, a melancholic yet always beautiful smile carved on the lips Makoto’s just kissed.

 

Makoto stumbles backward at the unbelievable sight before him, eyes widened with incredulity as he struggles to breathe, chest constricting so much that he feels himself wheezing and gasping for air, until his back hits the wall, and the intense stare of the android’s robotic eyes focuses on him.

 

He takes a small step towards Makoto’s cowering figure, arm outstretched and dark eyes flickering with _something_ that makes the brunette shiver.

 

Within the span of two seconds, perhaps less – Makoto can’t really tell because he thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe and oh lord is his pain so serious that his mind has come to cope with it using hallucinations? – the SH known as Nanase Haruka is standing before Makoto, almost a head shorter, and blinking up at him through the curtain of his blue-black bangs as a small, teasing grin spreads across his lips.

 

“It’s only been a few years, Makoto. Have you forgotten about me already?”

 

That one little, innocent question sends a mixed wave of nausea and resentment over his body because _how dare he_ – how dare he questions Makoto’s faith? How dare he belittles Makoto’s memories of his best friend by accusing him like this?

 

When Makoto continues to stare at him, still frozen in place from the shock but the line of his lips straightens into a tight line, Haruka leans away slightly with a soft tsk, crossing his arms in front of his chest as if Makoto is the unreasonable one here, as if seeing the exact replica of your supposedly dead best friend is an everyday occurrence that shouldn’t make him recoil in fright.

 

“You’ve read the report, yes?” Even the smallest touch of exasperation in his silvery timbre is not unlike the Haruka that Makoto knows. How is it possible for human beings to reconstruct a robot that’s almost an exact copy of the original human that bears that same name? How is it that they are able to recreate the same voice that used to talk and lull him to sleep over the phone when they were children? How is it that they can remake the same hair and nose and eyes and lips and defined shade of his skin and the precise contour of his face and dips and ridges of his body structure? How is it that Haruka – _is_ he the same Haruka that Makoto knows? – still remember who he is?

 

“I was about to,” Makoto mutters, gaze shifting to the side, unable to truly take a good look at the SH because every similarity he finds on the android is a little pinprick of needle reminiscence of his past.

 

“But surely, your supervisor must have told you about my arrival,” Haruka pushes on, though his tone remains civilly measured.

 

“He did,” Makoto says, defeated.

 

“Then what’s the problem here?” He – ‘ _Haruka_ ’, Makoto is still hesitant to use that name – asks with a tilt to his head.

 

Makoto glances up, carefully avoiding the ocean blue eyes because he knows he’ll be overwhelmed by them – the reminder of his death, the rare tender light in those eyes that’s only saved for a precious few, the possibility that he’s not the same Nanase Haruka he knows and loves anymore.

 

“You. You are the problem,” Makoto mutters through clenched teeth, fists shivering by his side and eyes stubbornly refusing to look at the android, who’s giving him a calculating look, as if he’s uncertain of whether the brunette is merely joking or if he’s being extremely cornered.

 

“Is there anyway I can fix this problem?” Makoto doesn’t see it, but the light in his blue eyes softens, a corner of his lips curving upward in an encouraging smile.

 

‘Not if you can resurrect him,’ he wants to say, but doesn’t because there’s no point. Instead, he asks in a quiet, solemn tone, as if his entire existence depends on the answer he receives from him, “Who are you?”

 

Haruka blinks, silently searches for an appropriate response to the strange question the human has posed, but only finding straight-up answers that hardly requires the intelligence of an android in the first place. The answer is really quite simple, but humans like to complicate things; Haruka would know, because despite his titanium alloy frame, synthetic skin, processor that’s more wires and gears than muscles and tissues, and an electrical ‘heart’ in the form of a powerful hard drive filled with the precious memories of his family and friends, he is still a human being.

 

Words are clumsy and logical explanations are useless when one is overcome by a tsunami of emotions verging on chaos, so Haruka chooses to answer Makoto’s question with another tactic.

 

Slowly, as slowly as his limbs would allow in order to make the movement seems natural, Haruka reaches out for Makoto, who cringes and is about to snatch his hand away but the dark-haired android is faster; he seizes Makoto’s hand as gently as possible, attempting to signify his harmless intention through that single motion, and he holds his bigger hand in his like it’s the most fragile, delicate artefact in the world.

 

With his palm against the back of Makoto’s hand, he laces their fingers together, and the heat of Makoto’s skin burns deeper than he imagines; it crawls across the sensors on his skin and that should’ve been it, but it keeps sinking, deep, deep into the core of his being. Haruka guides their joined hands closer to his face, and giving the taller man a significant look, he places Makoto's hand against his cheek.

 

“I’m Haru,” he says as he stares into Makoto’s vibrant green eyes that widen at his answer, every syllable pure and tinkling like wind chimes swaying in spring breeze, and the blue of his eyes is brighter – more lively, somehow – than Makoto remembers, and it’s strange to think that a Synthetic Human – a tin box with artificial sentience – is capable of appearing to be more human than the memory of his best friend that haunts his dreams night after night. He caresses the skin of his cheek experimentally, and Haruka’s eyes flutter close; it’s soft and feels like a human’s, even to the detail of the angular cut of his cheekbone, but the warmth there is mere remnant of Makoto’s touch. “ _Your_ Haru.”

 

Something inside Makoto breaks, and it’s silent and irreparable. When he finds his voice, it’s so brittle that if it weren’t for Haruka’s advanced sensors, he would’ve missed his two little words.

 

“Prove it.”

 

Without an ounce of hesitation and maintaining their gaze, Haruka digs into his pocket and pulls out a small object, dangling it between his fingers and waiting for Makoto’s response with an expectant arch of his brows.

 

The brunette tears his eyes away from the android, letting his arm fall from Haruka’s face for the moment, and what he sees causes his heart to tighten and his breaths to stutter.

 

“W-Where did you get this?” Makoto touches the dulled and scratched surface of the wooden orca carving with hesitant fingers, the tears in his eyes that he’s been trying all this time to hold back are burning wet trails down his cheeks, blurring his vision, and he has no way or will to stop it.

 

“It belongs to me,” Haruka replies easily. “You carved this during art class, remember? First year of high school. After you got a C- on it, you were about to throw it into the trash in a fit of frustration, but I told you that we could trade; I would give you the dolphin that I made if you gave me the orca.”

 

“How is this even possible?” Makoto shakes his head, a burst of disbelieved laughter seizing his body despite the tears still running down his face, but the memory of that scene puts a fond smile on his lips moments later after he brushes any evidence of his crying with the back of his arm, when he pictures the aforementioned dolphin keychain sitting on his desk in his sleeping quarter.

 

“This was in my pocket when they retrieved my body from the water,” Haruka says, his glance falls onto the keychain resting on the center of his palm, a small smile making the infinitesimal sensors in his eyes light up just the slightest. “It was all I had when I was stuck in the lab for the last four years; this, and the recollection data I had of you and the others.”

 

“So, you’re really, _really_ Haru.” Makoto asks in awe, his eyes tracing every little detail on the SH’s face his limited human vision can cover, and his hands automatically seek for Haruka’s, holding them in a firm but gentle grasp, the cold metal of his robotic arm and the warmth of his skin creating an interesting texture on the sensors of his skin.

 

“In a manner of speaking,” Haruka replies with a nonchalant shrug, and the answer is just so purely _him_ that Makoto briefly wonders why he’d ever consider pushing him away in fear.

 

“I’ve really missed you, Haru-chan!” Makoto laughs as he pulls the unsuspecting android into his arms, a sound rich and golden that rouses from the depth of his chest, and he laughs harder still when Haruka’s expected grumpy response of “Drop the ‘chan’” is thrown his way. He laughs out of relief but mostly out of happiness at the knowledge that his best friend is still alive – in a way; after four years of separation, they have reunited under the most implausible circumstance, and Makoto won’t have it any other way.

 

“I miss you, too,” Haruka admits, turning his head to the side with a pout though his eyes are glimmering with mirth.

 

They can start again, Makoto realizes, and Haruka is staring at him curiously, head tilted to the side with a silent question as a stray lock of dark hair falls into his eyes.

 

Makoto blushes at the first thought that crosses his mind, as he notices just how close to each other they’re standing and under the glow of the overhead lights, Haruka’s eyes are glinting a blue hue that reminds Makoto of the seacoast of Iwatobi, of home and safety, of the boy who loves water more than anything else but chooses to sacrifice his life for the people he holds dear.

 

“M-May I… I mean, I know we’ve just met again after a long time, but uh –– Haru! What –– ?” Before Makoto can finish his request, Haruka’s impatience – that trait the scientists have never managed to erase completely – prompts him to take matters into his own hands, and he pulls the brunette closer, their mouths clashing unceremoniously in a wet mess of lips and teeth and tongues as Haruka backs them up against the nearest wall.

 

Makoto drags a hand through the SH’s tousled locks as their kisses deepen, tongues delving in to taste, and it’s a little bit weird licking into an android’s decidedly dry oral cavity, but the way Haruka kisses him back with a quiet ferocity and unbound recklessness is something familiar to the both of them.

 

At a particular hard nip on his bottom lip, Makoto moans and his fingers tighten on the strands of Haruka’s hair by instinct, earning him a breathless gasp from the android. The brunette stares at him, mouth slightly opened and lips invitingly red and swollen. “You can feel that? I mean,” he swallows, his heart racing still from their intense kisses, “You can feel aroused, too – in this body?”

 

“It’s just another algorithm in my programming among many others,” he murmurs against the corner of Makoto’s mouth, his chest heaving from exertion though he technically doesn’t need oxygen to operate.

 

“Huh.” His expression turns thoughtful.

 

“Anything that matters?” Haruka hooks his arms over the man’s broad shoulders, his eyes challenging.

 

“N-no,” Makoto laughs bashfully. “It’s just…” He moves his hand from the back of Haruka’s head and makes his way to cradle his face, his thumb tracing the shape of his parted lips as the dark-haired android breaths out steadily, eyes half-lidded at the sensation that’s almost too much and not enough. “With the current technology at hand, I didn’t think they’d bother to input a humanistic trait as risqué and inconvenient as lust.”

 

“What – you think sexual intercourse is inconvenient?” Haruka raises a brow and bites his pouting lower lip deliberately.

 

“I – no! Haru! You know that’s not what I meant!” Makoto wails as he buries his burning face into the crook of the android’s neck, and Haruka chuckles lightly at how easy it is to be with him like this – how effortless and elatedly happy he feels right now, with the human he loves enclosed in his arms.

 

“Many of the current SH models have this tendency installed within our systems, but we don’t act on those impulses most of the time – that is, if the impulses ever occur in the first place, which is pretty rare in itself. You, Tachibana Makoto, is the trigger of my aforementioned impulses,” Haruka points accusingly at the tip of the brunette’s nose, but his mouth is curved up in a teasing grin. 

 

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

 

“Haven’t decided yet,” Haruka steals another kiss, this time just a brief peck on his lips before he pulls away. “Anyway, isn’t it time for you to introduce me to the rest of your team?”

 

“Ah, shit,” Makoto mutters when he checks the time on his wrist communicator. The other two must be wondering where he’s gone off. “But I got to take my meds first.” He begins to stride towards his room with Haruka closely following behind.

 

“Meds?” The SH catches Makoto’s hand, and the brunette’s forced to stop again.

 

“Uh, yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck self-consciously. “It’s for the pain in my right shoulder.”

 

“About that…” Haruka begins, but Makoto doesn’t let him finish.

 

“It was an accident,” Makoto says quickly, smiling in an attempt to reassure him. “I’ll tell you more about it when we have time.”

 

Haruka sees the promise in those eyes that never lie, the promise that they will have all the time they need to get reacquainted after four years of being apart, thinking the other dead or presuming to never see him again.

 

“Mako-chan!”

 

Haruka turns at the sound of an ecstatic holler, and spots a young man with blond hair dashing towards their direction. Behind him, a woman with fire-red hair put in a high ponytail is running to catch up.

 

“Nagisa-kun, wait up, damn it!”

 

“Guys, sorry I’m running a bit late today,” Makoto apologizes, and winces when Nagisa grabs onto his metallic arm a little too eagerly in greeting.

 

The initial irritation Haruka bears towards this blond fluff ball of energy from the moment he calls Makoto with such a friendly nickname has rapidly increased to extreme annoyance in the expanse of 4.8 seconds at the careless way he interacts with his team leader who’s clearly still recovering from a significant injury.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Makoto-senpai. We were just worried,” the red-haired woman glances over at Haruka with interest.

 

If the woman’s gaze is considered polite, then the blonde’s blatant staring should be described as downright rude. “New recruit?” he pipes up.

 

“Ah, yes! He’s the reason why I called you two up for a brief meeting,” Makoto clears his throat and attempts to use his deep, authoritative team leader voice. It isn’t working very well given the fact that, well, he’s just been reunited with a childhood friend in a very intimate manner and there’s no way he’s going to let the others know about their relationship – at least not just yet. “Gou-chan, Nagisa, this is Nanase Haruka. He’s been assigned to Team Alpha as our SH SAR technician. From now on, he’ll be participating in our future missions after some field exercises and training.”

 

“Finally! We’re getting our very own SH personnel!” Nagisa cheers as he faces him with an open, dazzling grin.

 

Haruka merely scoffs at the blonde’s enthusiasm, an attitude surely stemming from shallow reasons.

 

“Ah, Haru –– ka, _Haruka_ ,” Makoto, in his excitement, almost forgets himself, and continues, “This is Hazuki Nagisa. Don’t let his boyish charm and demeanour fool you; he’s actually a very competent medical officer.”

 

“Hey! What do you mean by ‘actually’?” Nagisa pouts but doesn’t deny the rest of his description.

 

“And this is Matsuoka Gou, our navigator and vehicle operator. Basically, she’s our light in the dark – sometimes quite literally. Oh, and she drives like a madwoman,” Makoto gestures towards the woman, who greets Haruka with an upbeat, welcoming smile.

 

“He meant that I drive with mad skills,” Gou feels the need to clarify as she shakes Haruka’s hand.

 

Just as Makoto is about to continue, Haruka receives a message.

 

“I’d hate to disrupt this delightful meeting, but Lieutenant Serizawa has just sent a message notifying everyone in the platoon to attend briefing regarding the next assignment at 15:30,” Haruka reports.

 

“How did you receive that so quickly?” Makoto asks with amazement, checking his communicator for any incoming messages, and as if on cue, all three of their communicator watches ding with a new notification.

 

“Strong Wi-Fi reception,” Haruka smirks and Makoto gives him an incredulous look before breaking into chuckles, the sound muffled by his hand, but the interaction doesn’t escape his other two subordinates as they steal glances between their team leader and the newcomer.

 

Adding an SH member to Team Alpha definitely boosts team morale, Nagisa decides with a mischievous grin when he makes some vague excuse to drag Gou along with him, leaving the other two alone for the time being.

 

“What was that all about?” Makoto wonders as he continues to lead them towards his sleeping quarter.

 

“That Hazuki is a little devil,” Haruka comments in a bland tone as he steps into the room after Makoto, eyes filing around the small cube of a room with minimal level of interest, until his sensors zoom in to the light blue shape of the dolphin carving on the desk; the sight of it warms him, though he understands that it’s just a trick of perception.

 

“Not going to defend him in that regard,” Makoto laughs good-naturedly, throwing a small white pill into his mouth and swallowing it dry; it’s a practiced routine that Haruka wonders how long this pain has been bothering him.

 

He starts to open his mouth, and Makoto is looking at him expectantly, but he recalls Makoto’s expression, the silent promise, from earlier: they have all the time to ask all the questions they wish, search for the answers that seem to flee further away, and treasure each other’s company in the days to come.

 

Haruka shakes his head once. “Never mind.”

 

He drifts closer, his footsteps silent as a ghost’s, and closer still until they’re barely touching, and then slowly, ever so slowly, Makoto feels the safe and solid embrace of Haruka’s arms as they wind about the brunette’s waist and fingers clasp together at the small of his back.

 

He will be Makoto’s shield, Haruka decides as he leans against the other man’s chest, inhaling the scent that’s unmistakably Makoto’s. He will become his shield strong enough to defend the human’s precious life, to make up for the two lives he couldn’t save, to make up for all the time they’ve lost, to carve out a future that looks so much brighter and more hopeful that Haruka can have ever wished for.   

**Author's Note:**

> Please give yourself a pat on the back for finishing reading this fic, because wow! I actually had to take a break from writing this because of how upset I felt when I was writing the tsunami scenes. But it has a happy ending, as some of you might have predicted if you’ve read my SouRin fic “It’s a Disaster” that’s set in the same AU. So it all ends well. 
> 
> If you’ve enjoyed this story, please consider casting a vote for me at The Official MakoHaru Festival on Tumblr (http://theofficialmakoharufestival.tumblr.com/post/111937547770/) by reblogging or liking the post! Thanks for sticking it out until the end!
> 
> I also have 3 (or more) fics planned for the festival so please stick around if you're interested! :3


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